Acid Town
by mademestutter
Summary: A world where demons, vampires and unicorns are real and Blaine's an assassin who had to kill against his will. One day, his employer sent him a message, in which his next target was a man named "Kurt Hummel".
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my take at vampire!blaine (or fantasy!klaine in general), I'll have the exams next week so no promise for an update any time sooner, I'll try to write it every day though. **

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It was five minutes to midnight that Billy Shawn found himself lying on the wooden dock, bruises spread over his body, shivering violently from the cold breezes brought from the sea.

Billy had never been a good man. In fact, he prided himself in being an arrogant infamous drug lord in town. He had made a certain big deal from one of the dealers earlier that day, big cash equaled happy Billy. So he was definitely in a good mood for some new toy in town. An exotic slave with pearly eyes that screamed innocent virgin, she was his favorite type to fuck.

If you ask the man, he'd said he had never thought he'd end up dead under layers and layers of water in the sea. Well, not _yet _actually. There he was, kidnapped and beaten down by a rapist, stalker, serial killer, might be an employee of his enemies - it can only be one of those. Billy was dragged out from the windows of his bathroom when he had just finished cleaning himself dry. The attacker didn't leave him severe or obvious wounds. They simply punched him in his abdomen and broke one or many his bones. Whatever they did, it left Billy breathing heavily and panted like a pig.

He was yelling at first. Then turned to negotiating, finally, he came down to begging. He pleaded the man – whose face was half lit up by the moon light, the other side hidden in the shadow – to let him go. His attacker had eyes like a mix of honey and sunshine that were glinting with amusement, dark curly hair and lips curved into a small grin. He was wearing a leather jumpsuit, black leather gloves covered to his fingertips.

"Please, I beg you!" Billy coughed shots of blood into his hand, "Let me go! I'll pay you, I'll pay you double, no, triple the price your employer had offered!"

The man smiled, somehow both endearing and terrifying at the same time, considering he was going to end Billy's life in just a matter of minutes. "_That_, would be me breaking the contract." His silky, lowered voice almost sounded like music to one's ears.

"I'll give you anything, _anything_ that you want! Money! Whores! Estates! I have them all! Come on, just _please_!" Billy was crawling now, his plump hand reaching near the man's boots.

"Man, I'd never imagine a drug lord, one as proud and fucking twisted like you, would be in this kind of position. People might mistake you for a filthy low life, almost like a vermin, you know?" The man kicked him in the head, which sent Billy three yards backward. Billy's attempt to overpower him was ruined, now _that_ was a silly thing to do.

Billy groaned, his back hit the wooden logs, body tensed and aching. Blood was pouring from his mouth, made a thin line to his neck and collar, down to his shirt and soaked them with crimson red liquid.

The man stepped toward Billy in a lazy and bored manner.

"Listen. I really, _really_ don't want to do this. Normally, I'd never do anything like this. Well, sometimes I choose the victim and get it over with in minutes. But this is what he wants." He shrugged, his hazel eyes darken, lips dropped to a frown. "Money, whores? I _pity_ you, you know. The fact that you are offering me things that I have no interest in is pitiful. And letting you go would be an abstract idea right now."

He lifted his head to observe the moon, now was hung high in the middle of the pitched-black sky. Two minutes until midnight. He looked back down, giving the old man a small grin.

"And I can't afford to think like that." He bent down in a graceful manner, grabbing the dying man's collar in a tight grip and lifted him up as though it was picking up a broken doll. Billy was never a fit man, but he was tall and heavy with meat and his belly stuck out proudly.

His attacker was smaller, almost one head shorter than him. But he made up in strength, for he had brought Billy from his mansion to this faraway place, running in the darkness without any support by transportations, leaving no trace of blood or evidence. Every thing felt like a dream, a very _very_ bad dream. The difference between dream and reality was that wherein the dream you get killed and wake up, finding yourself still safe and sound on your warm bed, but this, this was reality, where you would be near the verge of dying and the pain was so real it almost make you want to end things yourself. Where you wouldn't get to wake up, but gone and soon to be forgotten for the hazy memories of human.

Billy certainly wanted to believe it was a dream. However, the throbbing pain in his limbs had other ideas, it reminded him the cruel reality that he was in and frightened him. Soon, he too would be gone like the people he had had them killed. He had closed his eyes, hoping this would turn around, that when he open them, his bodyguards, his people would find him, finish the attacker and bring him home where they would treat him to his wounds and he would be fine.

When he opened his eyes, Billy saw the man's warm, almost harmless smile. It sent chill down his spine and made him shudder. Suddenly, the realization hit him.

"You, you are the son of one of those people, aren't you?" He stuttered, tasting the bitter taste of blood in his mouth.

The man shook his head lightly, "Where are my manners? Hi, I'm Blaine, nice to meet you." Blaine had his other hand grabbing behind his target's neck, leaning in closer to Billy's ear and whispered, punctuated at every single word, making sure that his voice wasn't lost in the strong gusts of wind. "And I'm your worst nightmare."

Then there was darkness. Billy Shawn was dead. His body was tossed into the roaring waves of the sea, into the eagerly waiting embrace of night's creatures. Had Billy seen and heard Blaine's last words to him, they would be "Goodbye then, Mr. Billy Shawn Jr." But Billy didn't, _couldn't_ hear that. For he had died, and if people could remember him, they would have known that he had lived for fifty-three years before that winter night.

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**Reviews are like cookies, only sugar-free, so do it please? 3 (Ok i didn't mean for it to rhyme) Also, I have no beta so any mistakes and any error you see and point out will be like, the biggest help ever for me.**


	2. When Night Falls

_That would do the trick_, Blaine thought, no one would ever be able to identify the man's – Billy Shawn's – body if it was found. The sea creatures that lived near the shore were known for attacking every thing that lived, they sucked the blood out of the victim's body until there was nothing left, they could be killed by fire or heat and therefore the only time of day that they went out for blood was near midnight.

Blaine had received the order - _message_, he thought (he had refused to be one of those killing machines of such a man) – earlier that day. Normally it had the name, profession and the address of the victim, sometimes included with deadlines.

This time it was "Billy Shawn Jr. Drug dealers. Number 7 of Falaeri street", written with the word '_urgent' _in a vicious red, placed at the bottom of the message. Blaine had memorized everything before he dumped it into the sink, the paper soaked with water melted and disappeared.

Planning his murder was an easy job, making it pass the guards and dogs outside however, was tough nut to crack. Fortunately he still had a chest full of drugs and charms that were given to him months ago, with a small dose of sleeping drug inside the dead rats – for the dogs – and needles soaked with poison – punctuated in the guards' necks, Blaine was able to get in the garden freely. He had to wait until Billy Shawn sent the girl out to make a move. The rest was history.

Torturing someone was not one of Blaine's hobbies. He liked to drink coffee, to read books in his school's library and to play his guitar. Apparently all he did now was to kill. And he hated it. Not his life, no, Blaine loved his daily life, the thing he hated was his nightly activities. When he should be doing his school work and hanging out with friends.

_Friends_, Blaine thought as he sucked in the sea's air. May be he should call them sometimes, to inform them that he was doing fine, he should not cause any suspicion of his absent lately. Ever since his father's disappearance, Blaine had worked hard to come up with stories covering it – the fact that his father was kidnapped – stories he had told, none of them was true, yet Blaine was able to not bat an eye. He was thankful for his father's early training, otherwise the police would be running around looking for a middle-aged man a long time ago. Three days after the kidnap, Blaine had been searching for places he knew his father would be if he had gone missing, none of them was a correct answer. Day four, Blaine was contacted by one of the kidnappers and the only way for his father to come back, _alive_, was that Blaine work for them.

Most people right now had been accustomed to the idea of having magical creatures living among them. Vampires, werewolves, demons, witches and wizards lived peacefully with human under The Government's laws. The Government was made with 12 members. Each of them was a leader of their respective clan or tribes. The one that held highest status was the Vampire's King who ruled over all the vampires that roamed the lands.

The Government system was built a long time ago and managed to survive the battles of tribes and clans, until twenty years ago, when the current Vampire's King – King Aaron – was murdered. His body was not found, and while many of the royal vampires believed King Aaron had a son, none of them could trace down this boy. What came afterward was the battle for the throne. Vampires were divided into three clans: the ones that had faith in the royalties and the rumored prince were called the Legalis, while their opposites were the Crudeus, the rest stayed neutral.

Although James Anderson was one of the soldiers of King Aaron in his golden days, James and his son – Blaine - were one of those who did not take sides. Blaine knew his father did this to save him from being discovered, after all, a half-breed like Blaine wouldn't be alive if any one to know of his nature. Growing up, Blaine was trained by his father both physically and mentally.

He was taught to do sword fight, hand-to-hand combat, self-defense skills and poisoning. While other children were playing in the sand playground, Blaine Anderson had already learned how to slit a person's throat. James had also taught his son how to stay away from curios eyes, to not stand out too much. Blaine was homeschooled until the age of fifteen, when he was sent to a private all boy school – Dalton Academy for magical creatures. It was not the education, however, for James to risk exposing Blaine, because Blaine had known far more than any kid his age, even more than any older vampire, about the world he lived in and how to protect himself. It was a reality test for him, a good student couldn't be fully qualified if he had not survived the real world.

Three years in Dalton and Blaine had proven his ability to blend in. He attended night class like other night creatures and slept in his own bedchamber in mornings. Blaine hated the idea of trapping himself inside when the sun was out, being a half-breed, he could freely walk under the sun without any difficulty. The teacher who taught them about vampires' nature had said, being a vampire, it was impossible for any of them to expose themselves under the sunlight without turning into ash, especially for minors like them. The ones that lived to hundreds years could endure one or two hours, but the aftermath was sunburned skin and weakened bodies. Powerful vampires, however, had proven that they could endure staying outside for three or four, still, none of them could retain their original strength.

Ever since he was a child, Blaine could run outside in the afternoon sun and play like any normal kid. Of course he would never go around and boast about this fact. Half-breeds were not allowed to live if they could not survive the attack of one hundreds man combined, even then their life would be placed on a platter, ready to be judged by The Government. To make it short, none of the half-breeds could stay alive if their identities were known publicly.

So instead of sleeping like a corpse inside his bedchamber, Blaine pretended to be asleep until the hall guards had checked his room, then woke up to do his daily exercise and researched about the human world. Blaine was fascinated to learn about the other world. Yes, he lived among human, but he was never allowed to play with human children, and never went to public school. The more he learned about them, the more he wanted to actually live with them. He could endure drinking blood vitamins, or draining blood from the wanted criminals. Because unlike other vampires that needed blood in their system twice or thrice a week, Blaine could hold his thirst for much longer, he could also consume food and water. In short, he could pass for a perfectly normal man.

He joined the school's fencing club, football club and choir club. While the earlier two was compulsory, joining the Warblers was his own choice. Being chosen as their lead soloist wasn't in his plan at all, and he had sleepless nights thinking if it was pulling too much attention.

After consulting with his father, James had said yes, and Blaine couldn't be happier.

"_Be careful, Blaine", his father said in one of their rare weekends together. "You don't really know how dangerous the world can be until you live it. And for years I had done any thing in my power to hide you, I gave you sword and shield, now you'll be using it to live, don't disappoint me." _

_Blaine nodded, eyes casting down the carpet underneath his feet. It took him two hours to drive back from Dalton to his house, so Blaine was tired and all that he wanted was to take a long sleep._

"_And Blaine?" He was ready to stand up and climb the stairs to his room when James called him back. _

"_Yes, father?" _

"_Whatever choices you make, just know that I'm very proud of you, and that I'll stand by you when you make it." James smiled, the first time ever Blaine saw his father smile at him, a genuine smile without any snarky comment about his sword fighting skills or his failed potions._

_Blaine nodded. _

And that was the last time they had spoken to each other.

Next weekends found Blaine in their house, looking for James but without any hopeful signs. He had to lie to his friends that his father was sick, which explained why he didn't attend his own son graduation ceremony.

James was in danger. Blaine was in danger too. He had questioned himself, why did the kidnapper choose him? Had they found out that he was a half-breed? Had they known any thing about his training or his skills? Which clan were they from? Either they were the Legalis or the Crudeus, the neutral ones wouldn't pull something like that off.

It had been four months since he worked for them. After each kill he would be sent a letter, a video or a voicemail that showed James Anderson was alive. The first time had been a letter, written by his father's own hand and ended with a blood signature. The second time was a phone call, in which they had James read the newspapers and told Blaine that he was in fine. Blaine could tell from his voice that his father was truly perfectly alive. The third time was a video Blaine found when he was checking his mailbox online. It had James sitting on a wooden chair behind a table, reading The Times and confirming his health. While his voice didn't quiver a single bit, his facial expressions showed he was not getting enough blood.

Blaine clenched his teeth, remembering the promise of another video of James, he ran into the darkness, let himself be covered by the shadow of the night.

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When Blaine got back to his apartment, he immediately stripped naked, silently appreciated the feeling of being free from the uncomfortable clothes. He took off the gloves and threw them together with his jumpsuit, placed his boots by his shoes and launched himsself in the bathroom.

He let cold water ran down his curly locks of hair, down to his face, neck and torso while he recalled the victims by order. Some of them he had never met, some he had heard of, it was Billy Shawn that Blaine actually knew. Every body knew Billy Shawn - family from father to son had been a line of drug lords underground, his blood was that of a human and a quarter of a giant, he traded slaves and imported illegal drugs – some feared him, some were just disgusted at the man's lifestyle. Blaine had tried to find the commons between his victims, their victims, but couldn't link any of those people together.

Blaine squeezed the water controller a bit too forcefully, he was angry at himself and the kidnappers. He had come to a conclusion long ago that they possessed no knowledge about his human mother. Every order was made at night and there was no one following after him every time he went out for school. It could only be inferred that they were trying to have James Anderson and his son to take their side. He laughed hollowly at the thought, _In your fucking dreams, bastards_.

The bathroom door opened with Blaine clad only in a towel, loosely wrapped around his pelvis, his bare, toned chest exposed to the room's air, hair still damped with droplets of water running down his curls, some still lingered on his long eyelashes. There, on his neck was a necklace that held a small glass vial, inside was a small amount of blue liquid. Blaine made a grab for his nightclothes and threw the towel into the laundry basket.

He made it to the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold water, downing it in one gulp. Blaine was going to take a very long sleep, at least, after he checked his mailbox for the video.

There was none.

May be they didn't know that he had finished that little so-called mission, Blaine thought to himself, the other times they always sent the confirming mails hours later. May be he'd received the mail tomorrow morning, after that sleep.

So he slumped on his featherlight bed, pulled the comforters close to his body and slowly relaxed.

The mail would come tomorrow, Blaine was sure of it.

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**Reviews are like cookies, only sugar-free, so do it please? I appreciate people's opinions about this and welcome all kind of constructive criticism.**


	3. What Morning Brings

There was a continuously ringing coming from the front door, whoever that person standing outside his apartment must be very persistent to meet Blaine for it had been going on for quite some time now. Or they were just pulling a stupid prank.

Blaine shifted from his position, he grabbed blindly for a thick pillow and brought it on to cover his ears, his face planted on the mattress.

"Go away," Blaine groaned.

For a while the annoying ringing stopped, and Blaine had secretly felt thankful for that. But it was replaced by an immediate chain of banging noises on the wooden door, even with his ears covered Blaine could still hear it went _thump thump thump._ He gritted his teeth, throwing away his pillow that a moment ago was kept so dearly close to him to stand up. He opted for a sweatshirt and put it on.

"Who's there?" Blaine called out while struggling to find his indoor shoes.

A muffled voice - deep and slightly irritated - came through almost instantly, "Delivery package for Mr. Anderson!"

Blaine was confused, if not startled. He craned his neck to look for the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, it was 6.30 in the morning. Yes, he definitely did not sleep for more than 5 hours. _Unless I slept through a whole day_, Blaine reasoned.

Despite his confusion, he still moved to open the door, but not before stuffing his pocket with a switchblade.

After unlocking a series of padlocks, he opened the door and stucked his head out, his face wearing an innocent look.

"You asked for an Anderson?"

A middle-aged man with elf-like ears greeted him, he looked rather relieved to see that someone's home. "Yeah. 'Been standing here for half an hour, anyway, here's something for ya." He handed Blaine a package that he had been holding on one hand for far too long.

Blaine took it carefully in his hands, it felt heavy with a shape of a thin notebook. He searched the outside of the package, a quizzical look on his face. There was no sender information, only the adress of his apartment and nothing else.

He eyed the man, "Not to be rude, but, you don't look like the mail-man type." Of course he knew the man standing in front of him was no office worker, he was wearing casual clothes, a blue baseball cap that said "Go Kingston's Elves" on his head, not exactly the kind of uniform post offices let their employee wear to work. Besides, there was no post on Sunday.

"I never said I was," He chuckled, "Someone told me to give this to you, gave me a hundred dollar bill. So I said 'why the hell not?' " Then he stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets and started to walk away.

"Wait! Did they say anything to you? What do they look like?" Blaine called after him, he ran after the man to the floor's elevator.

"Can't tell ya, kid. 'Cos that was also in the deal! Oh, but they did want you to open it right away, some kind of important emergency note and all!" He gave Blaine a half-grin and saluted before the doors closed.

Blaine - infuriated for being awoken so early in the morning - walked back to his apartment and slammed the door closed. He put the box on the coffee table and pulled out the switchblade, all the while hoping this was not again a pixie's dung joke. It was trendy for pranksters at the time, they would pack a box which was filled with pixie's waste found in swamps and send it anonymously to random people. Blaine had never received such things, but he heard - and studied - enough to know the smell lasted for days. Some had to abandone their houses to take shelter in other places.

He swallowed audibly and pulled out a tablet, well, it looked like a tablet with a screen and some buttons and all, except there was no brand name on either side. Blaine pressed the "Play" button, as it was the only button with word (and it was glowing a dangerous red).

The black screen disappeared and replaced by a video, the background was white and in the center, was a pair of lips with red lipstick, when the mouth open to talk, it had a voice that sounded too machine-like to be human's.

_"Greetings, Mr. Blaine Anderson. We are a the people that you have been working for for the last few months. Needless to say we are also the people who took away Mr. James Anderson for a short stay, for we know you will refuse to cooperate with us if we had seek your aid."_

"What the...," So it was them, _all along_, taking his father as hostage and blackmailed Blaine to do whatever they say.

_"We are very pleased to know that you had accomplished last night's mission. And we would like to inform you that Mr. James Anderson is in great shape, his accommodations, living conditions are provided with immense care, however, he will not be able to come back for a while longer. For we have a new mission for you. It will be-"_

"That's new," Blaine laughed wryly.

_"-your _last_ mission, because we search no war in our accomplices."_

"Well, you can count me out anytime."

_"The information for your next and last mission will be showed after a message from your father, Mr. James Anderson. We suggest you take notes because this video can not be replayed nor be repeated."_

After the voice ended, there came another video, with James Anderson sitting on a desk behind a table, his posture stiff and he looked far too uncomfortable to say he was treated with care. However, like they said, he was in great shape.

_"Blaine, I'm telling you now words that I'm forced to say-"_ He cringed a bit, his expression suggested that some kind of immediate pain just ran through him, but he resumed his composure fast enough to make it look like nothing important.

_"-words that are right, but not necessarily true, if applied to the situation,"_ He paused for a moment and continued, _"I'm not allowed to tell you where I'm being kept nor the people who are keeping me, but I can assure you that I'm somewhat safe and healthy._

_"They told me that I'll be coming back to you in one piece, alive and well. As long as you do whatever you're told. And I, who have known you since ever, know that you'll make the right decision, for I'm far too old to tell you, a young man, what you should do in this situation."_

And with that, the video ended. Blaine wasn't pleased because the video was shorter this time, it almost felt like they were urging him, or threatening him without using words. He shook his head and watched the following video, and probably the last piece of information.

On screen appeared two photos of his last target : a boy with chestnut hair, bright blue eyes and fair skin, far too young to compare with Billy Shawn Jr or any of Blaine's victims. His information listed and spoke aloud by the same voice earlier, _"Kurt Hummel. Age 20. Kind: _Unclassified_. Gender: _Male_. Address: _1209B, Reinnson Street_. Students of University of Arts and Designs for Magical Creatures. Wanted: _Dead_. Other notes: Retrieve the most important thing the target owns before finishing your kill."_

Blaine stood still, shocked and horrified. He remember this man, Blaine was an assistant for the professor of one of the classes Kurt Hummel was attending. Though Blaine _had_ a great memory, he wasn't known for remembering every one he had met. Maybe because Kurt was a bright, enthusiastic student and he always carried a very special aura with him, like he was superior to others that made people - _and_ Blaine - notice him.

They hadn't talked outside of class, not really, Kurt had approached Blaine multiple times to discuss about his study or to grab a coffee but Blaine had to refuse all of his offers. He was too busy planning and going after his targets.

And now, his target was Kurt.

_"This device will be destroyed within 20 seconds-"_

Startled, Blaine looked for somewhere to put it without causing trouble, if there was smoke then the fire alarm would go off, he couldn't dump it in the trash bin or the sink like he had done with the paper messages either.

The seconds were being counting down to 6 until he saw the little rain drops falling heavily outside, he was too absorbed in watching those videos that he didn't realize it was raining. He quickly dashed to the nearby window and tossed the now readied to explode tablet outside.

It went off with a booming noise and some smoke got out, washed away by water pouring down from the sky.

Closing the window, Blaine shook his head regretfully, he silently hoped that Kurt won't be too displeased when he slit Kurt's throat open.


End file.
